A Poem written by my Mother

A very touching piece on womenkind written by my mother in Hindi.


वक्त़ की साख से टूटे पत्ते की तरह

कुछ पीली, सूखी, मुरझाई सी

हज़ारो‌ं, लाखों, करोड़ों की भीड़ में
अपने असतित्व को ढूंढती थी मैं।
अपनी ज़मीन से जुड़ी, साख पर सजी
कितनी खुश थी मैं
क्यों वक्त़ के निर्मम पंजों ने
नोचकर गिरा दिया?
क्यों साख ने भी मेरा साथ न दिया?
हवा के झोंकों ने अपने साथ उड़ाकर
क्यों अंधेरे कुएँ में गिरा दिया?
क्यों वक़्त के थपेरों ने मुझे ही झंझोरा?
नियति के हाथों ने मुझे ही मरोड़ा,
क्यों मैं ही हुई निवाला काल के गाल का?
किससे पूछूँ जवाब इन सारे सवाल का?
सोचती हुई मैं थी बहुत परेशान
पर उसी वक़्त ने मुझे फिर किया हैरान
किया शुक्रिया मैंने उसी वक़्त का
जिसने किया मेरे समस्या का समाधान।
अपनी ही जैसी अनगिनत व्यथिताओं को देखकर
मेरे हृदय की सारी वेदनाएँ गल गई
जैसे धवल चाँदनी में निशा धुल गई
अंदर की रौशनी से जगमगा उठी हूँ मैं
आज अपने तेज से ही तमतमा रही हूँ मैं
तम छँट चुका है ज़िन्दगी का
फैली है उजियारी
हाँ गर्व से कहती हूँ कि मैं हूँ इक नारी
नारी हूँ, अपने वजूद का करती हूँ मैं ऐलान
मुझसे ही है दुनियाँ, मुझसे ही सृष्टि तमाम।
आज वक़्त के हाथों की कठपुतली नहीं हूँ मैं
वक़्त ने भी दी है मुझको अलग पहचान
अपने अस्तित्व को ढूंँढने की ज़रूरत नहीं मुझको
मुझसे ही होता है वक़्त का निर्माण।
—-Neel Kamal

Finding Darkness

“God said let there be light and there was light.”

“And then?”

“Nothing. All was bright, illuminated.”

“Where is darkness? Did it flee?”

“No. It is still here hiding under light.”

“Frightening us since ages!!”

“There are many places which are still dark…unknown. Nobody cares to light up those places.”

“Not even God?”

“No. Not even GOD. God is too busy fuelling the sun.”

“So that it can illuminate dark places.”


“Why fuelling the sun then? Let us stay in dark…all of us.”

“We are living in darkness, dear friend, darkness in disguise.”

“Living in darkness…living in fear.”

“Living in darkness…living in ignorance.”

“Oh! This light is too bright. Its blinding.”

“What kind of life is it? Living in darkness but not knowing how it looks like.”

“Because its too bright.”

“Lets turn out the lights and see where the hell is this darkness hidden!”



“But we cannot see without light. How would we find darkness? How would we see it?”

“One of my friends has special glasses. One who wears it can see without light.”

“Sounds cool. Ask him to lend us!”

“But he has went to the lighthouse to meet his cousin.”

“Okay. We will talk to him when he comes back.”

“Yeah. I am sure darkness is not going anywhere. It can wait till next time.”

“Hmm. Lets find it some other day.”








Tiny, short and stout…no hands, no legs just a big visage. A strange creation Daruma Doll. It can’t even crawl. We can. We are expert crawlers. We are taught to crawl when kids then we live crawling, die…crawling. Unlike us it can’t escape not even psychologically. We are amazing escaptists, aren’t we? But this poor little thing! It has nothing to escape with. No thoughts, no feelings…nothing. If it somehow manages to escape, what would it take with itself? Poor hollow thing is it even concious of its existance? It doesn’t seem so. Again, unlike us, we are so much aware of our being. Kick it…punch it, it always gets up unashamed, brave, indifferant. We are too good at kicking and punching but getting up…no! Its not our job, we have left it to Daruma. We can lay ourselves down (a Daruma Doll can’t), easily, almost instantly. No! We are not even asked to, we perceive it through our senses. Another factor which makes us different rather superior – “senses”. Despite all these vices Daruma Doll is still standing on the shelf singing Amor Fati. And we? What are we doing? Pretending. Pretending to be busy…busy crawling, busy escaping, kicking, getting kicked, lying down, busy faking, busy writing, busy reading, busy hoarding, huhhhhh busy waiting…waiting for whom, Godot?

Blahhhhhh I am aging… my birthday is hardly a month away. I will be 19…it sucks. Who wants to age??

I don’t want to grow old n weak. I don’t want anyone to grow old mum papa di… N we all gonna die! Every second nearer to death. Dying means ceasing to exist… all those feelings, thoughts, problems, desires everything coming to an end…forever.

I  am not afraid of dying. I am afraid that I will have to live till I die. I need to make some good memories, which I have hardly been able to do till now, so that I can recall them at the time of death. Tiring job it is..to live.

I don’t understand. Why am I living? For what reason should I continue to go on?

all those tears those smiles those wounds n those scars… that pain..nothing matters.

Should I be happy about it?

Is there no way to escape from emotions? Is it possible not to feel anything?

Why it has to be so difficult? Why indifferance is not indifferant to pain? Why things are so clear yet so vague?

Perhaps you can now understand why I call myself…




If that Thing could Speak

I am an overrated object. They call me woman. I am very beautiful because I am a woman. When I lift my eyes the sun gets eclipsed, when I speak cuckoo faints, when I walk snakes leave the land… Thats why I tie a handkerchief round my eyes, I never raise my voice (if I do I get accused of violating the cuckoo rights), after a long protest (a blink long) by the snake charmers I got banned from streets and roads and even from lanes near my home especially late at night. They rape me if I dare to violate these rules.

I am great because I am a woman. I can create, I can tolerate huge pain, I am the symbol of chastity, I stand ahead of dogs when it comes to loyalty, I am the one who understands, so I am the only one who understands, my heart is a blackhole so huge…it can digest everything with a promise never to reflect. I am a woman the greatest being you would ever see. I am dumb as a book. I never complain no matter where you keep me what you do to me.. tear me, burn me or even worse never try to understand me..I keep quiet because I know its my duty to understand that its your birthright not to understand. I am the wisest.

I am all the synonyms of kindness and all the antonyms of rebellion.

I am the most useful object. I come for free no price no tax (though I am counted as a luxury). I am very easily available. Get me once get me for life. Get me a house I’ll make it a home. Getting me is like getting a well furnished ready to move villa with parking space, swimming pool, tennis court, lawn, garden…absolutely free with no terms and conditions.

I am amazing I know. I am a thing called woman.


*a lot more to say*


Daily Prompt: Funnel

via Daily Prompt: Funnel

A: Whats exactly the shape of a        funnel?

B: What is a funnel?

C: I never thought of it.

A: I guess its sort of cylindrical…

B: What is a funnel??

C: I don’t think so. They say it’s a      “sphere”.

A: Like a football you mean?

B: What the h** is a funnel!!!

C: I don’t mean anything. I am just  telling you what ‘they’ say.

A: Okay. Are you sure they are          right?

C: Mmmm…they must be.

A: They must have seen a real          funnel then?

B: Look! What I found.

A Complete History of Funnel its Origin, Shape and its Significance.

A: Where did you find it?

B: Doesn’t matter. Let’s see what it  reads.

C: See…I told you its a sphere.

B: When?

C: A moment ago you blockhead!

A: You didn’t say anything. You        just said what they say you              were not even sure!

B: What does a funnel look like?    This book is useless no images    nothing.

A: You are right. I don’t believe it. I  don’t think they have ever seen        a funnel themselves.

C: They don’t need you to believe    them.

A: But I need to know what I            know.

C: All I know is funnel is spherical  in shape.

A: But you never saw one                  yourself…

B: I am still not sure what exactly    a funnel is…

A: Does it even exist?

C: Yes it does. How can it not!!! They say it exists and its                    spherical. They have seen it.

B: Who? What are you two talking  about!!

A: The Funnel. I don’t think it is        there.

C: You have lost your mind.

B: It must be a myth.

C: You said you don’t know what a  funnel is…

B: But I know what is a myth.

A: Let it be it doesn’t help us lead    our lives anyway.

B: Exactly. Why bother!

C: See! Didn’t I tell you in the            beginning itself?

A: What?

C: That I never give a thought to it.



*ignore those gaps pls






Scarecrows are weird creatures. Actually they are not creatures at all.. mere things.. lifeless things.. inanimate dumb creatures.. sorry things. However, they bear close resemblance to us. Yes! we human beings are very similar to scarecrows though we are living creatures… not always full of life force but always afraid of the drag called death.. we just like them stand aimlessly. Sometimes we walk.. umm .. that’s not enough.. we run but we are quite unaware of what we are doing. Scarecrows once made, stand still, static at the same place, they enjoy sunshine, bathe in cold dew at night, endure rain and fight thunderstorms with the same enthusiasm.. but they are still aimless and they aren’t aware of it. With a smile on their face they fool themselves.. stupidly imagine to be flying with the crows.. those crows which never miss an opportunity to peck on their heads.. those crows which they are seldom successful in scaring away. In my grandpa’s farm, their used to be an old aged scarecrow perhaps of the same age as my grandpa..who knows may be older. Its smile was gone.. it wasn’t their on its round earthen face anymore. But my grandpa still smiles.. he is still good at fooling himself and the others. Perhaps that’s what makes us different .. we human beings and the scarecrows.. though sedentary at core, aimless, clueless, hardworking, dutiful.. we emerge out as the superior ones..



The Psycho…



No Space for Faith..

Can you tell me why, the sky is so high?

Can you tell me if I can fly?

The wind is strong and the journey’s long,

Would you catch me if I fall,

Or would you let me die?

I fear fear

What if its not an oasis?

What if its a mirage!

I am too tired a traveller

Consumed enough to be wise

Doubtful of my senses

If it is real or mere disguise..

The Psycho…



Can you see smoke rising from somewhere in the depths of your favourite coffee mug?

Can you hear it whisper your name?

Can you see it dancing in the air,

Taking different shapes with different blows of air?

Time ticks by,

And the shapes are no more recognizable

You question your perception

Is it true or mere deception?

Smoke stops taking your name

First you doubt your senses then, your fame

An utter silence spreads

Once annoying you crave for the whisper again,

But its gone..

Merged with the vast empty space which now surrounds you

Don’t stay awake, try to fall asleep,

Close your eyes and weep

Weeping is not an easy thing: it requires tears

Trade some for your fears

And cry

Come back to the ground,  you must be bored of the sky

Now can you equate,

That you can’t differentiate ,

An emptiness inside yourself

And the space outside?


One of the most important questions of all time “Why? ” Almost everything  begins with a Why and ends with another. Isn’t it funny that the word WHY itself ends with a Y? Now coming to the point “Why did I decide to create a blog? ”  The answer is quite a simple one. I didn’t decide anything, it just happened. I was reading something on WordPress and my nerves compelled me to click create a blog button. So simple!

However now that I have created a blog I would keep on writing crap every now and then, that I used to share with my… umm… aaaa…. lets talk about it some other day.

Since its my first blog let me make it clear that I am not a writer I am just a heap of emotions whom no one dares to mess up with.

The Psycho…